


Heirlooms

by musicforswimming



Category: Chronicles of Narnia
Genre: Book: The Last Battle, Gen, Post-Series, The Problem of Susan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-15
Updated: 2009-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicforswimming/pseuds/musicforswimming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan carries on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heirlooms

**Author's Note:**

> Quick little ficlet written as part of a meme on my LJ. Unbetaed.

Susan took great care in dressing for the funeral. When her friend Liza's brother had come back, she had fallen to pieces, and could barely dress herself for the event, but Susan was not Liza, and Susan would have not a hair out of place. She checked and double-checked and triple-checked the seams on her stockings -- they had been Mother's stockings once, there still wasn't much nylon to be had, but she'd never have to fake it again, she supposed.

Makeup would be tasteless. A little bit of color for her cheeks, that was all. She was asked to speak, and she straightened her back and imagined that she was a queen when she did it, and she did not cry, and her voice was low, but it never shook.

She heard someone whisper, as she went back to her seat, about how underneath it all, she was "a gentle girl", and she felt herself stumble then. That was her only concession to the monstrosity of all of this in public, however.

The Professor had willed his estate to the Pevensies, which meant her. She shook off the notion that he knew, and it was a long time before she visited. Even longer before she could bring herself to find the spare room, and it was longer still -- felt like it, anyway, but in truth, of course, it had only been a couple of years -- before she could bring herself to do it.

With her fingers, Susan traced the tree on the door. The room was bright with the snow, with the light from the silvery clouds it drifted down from. She flung open the doors, and found only coats, but she thought she caught a bite of pine sap along with the smell of mothballs and strange old wood. She sat on the floor of the spare room and wept, and then sobbed until she thought she couldn't breathe, and at the end of it all, she still smelled pine and the room seemed even brighter.

Stockings, the house, the manor, and her only kingdom the world before her: these were her inheritance, and Susan would make of them the best she could.


End file.
